If I Tell You a Secret
by Detention Room 21
Summary: Spencer Reid is not who he says he is. Is he a criminal, a victim, or a confused young man caught up in a deadly family game? Gideon and the gang must find this out for themselves, or die trying. I'd review if I were you.
1. Prologue

Spencer walked into BAU headquarters with a frown on his face. It wasn't his usual ho-hum frown where he is merely thinking of statistics or whatever, it was a troubled frown, a thoughtful frown. It was such a rare sight, to see the young genius so distraught. It peaked Jason Gideon's interest enough to walk over to his protégé.

"Good morning." He said pleasantly. Reid just grumbled what sounded like a 'whatever'. Reid never said whatever. At least not to Gideon's knowledge.

"Are you alright?" The older man inquired, trying to catch the boy's eye, which had wandered to his halted feet; Gideon had blocked the path to his desk. His messenger bag hung from his bony shoulder, bursting at the steams with who-knows-what.

"Y-yeah." Reid stuttered nervously, running a hand through his long, curly brown hair. Though he knew she'd murder him for hearing, the man had heard JJ going on about how cute it made him--not the little boy cute, either. He and Hotch had a wonderful time telling Morgan, who had a wonderful time mercilessly taunting JJ. He and Prentiss threatened to tell Reid, and that got them merchandising rights to all of JJ's outfits for life--she still had to wear Human Torch and Silver Surfer bras.

Gideon raised an eyebrow. Reid was either a horrible liar or was having a seizure, because his eye was twitching like a bad camera. Lately, it had been like that a lot. They all knew it--he was constantly lying to them.

Gideon decided to keep quiet the fact that he had always seen the twitch, since he had met the young man. He hid it well, for awhile--blinking it out, looking away, going off on a fact-spewing rant. Lately, though, he had been getting lazy and disorganized. He barely put any work into hiding his lies.

Gideon feigned concern. Putting a hand on the young agent's shoulder, he caught his nervous eye.

"Are you alright?" He asked again. Reid, blinking rapidly, answered with an irritable tone.

"Yes, how many times are you going to ask?" He snapped, backing away so that Gideon's hand fell to his side and, with a warning glare, stocked off, running a hand through his hair again. Without waiting for a reply, the young man stormed off, over-exaggerating his loud stomps and annoyed mutterings. Gideon stared off at him, questions overwhelming his brain. Why? Why was he always so secretive? Reid, as he knew him, was not a particularly secretive person in general, he usually just kept his life to himself unless the situation called for it to be discussed. The most they had found out about his life at once was when he had been kidnapped by Tobias, and even then it was barely a Wikipedia biography (and they're pretty damn short).

"How many has he so far?" A voice said from behind him. There was Morgan, arms crossed, eyes raised.

"Twice." Reid glared, subconsciously beginning to pick at his nails.

"Then three ought to do it." Morgan suddenly smiled lightheartedly. Gideon chuckled, knowing he sensed the friction between himself and the younger man.

"That's really funny." Reid pretended to laugh dryly, but under he breath he barely whispered, "Ya jackass…"

Before Gideon or Morgan could utter another word, the genius turned and walked away, leaving them perplexing over his attitude.

It wasn't until he was alone in his office that Gideon pulled out what he had taken from Reid's bag, when he had walked over to him.

It was a driver's license, a somewhat new one. It was glossy and white, with the words typed neatly in rows. Beside them was a picture. It was of a handsome young man, with long, curly brown hair and big brown eyes. It was a picture of Spencer Reid, age 24.

But, according to the license, it was Matthew Parker, age 21.

A\N-I'm sorry this was such a lame first chapter, forgive me. Don't expect an update for awhile, I'm slow, and I have, like, twelve other stories on two other accounts, plus my own personal ones. I bid you ado, and so does my Albino Space Chigger.


	2. Dear God, I Hate Spanish! My Apologies

Dear Readers,

So terribly sorry for getting your hopes up, even though I'm well aware this story isn't all that popular anyway…

It's not that I'm getting rid of it. It's just that, because I failed Spanish--which, might I add, isn't even a real subject and, given the time, the textbook, and no idiot classmates who distract me, I'd be able to teach myself the language, and any other subject as well--my mother is taking my precious laptop. This is our last night together for MONTHS!

I choose to let you know this, just because. I do promise, the minute I get my baby back, you will have your update, perhaps two, if I feel guilty enough and get enough pleading reviews (they amuse me).

Thank you for your patience. Go see Cloverfield.

Yours truly, and all that crap,

Detention Room 21


End file.
